


Out Patience

by TsarinaTorment



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo: Scott Edition [1]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Alan can channel his big brothers when he has to, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Family, Fluff, Gen, Scott Whump, Scott is a Terrible Patient, The Patient Has Left The Building, Virgil Whump, so is virgil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:00:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25423540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TsarinaTorment/pseuds/TsarinaTorment
Summary: There are three Tracys in the hospital and only one of them should be out of bed.
Relationships: Alan Tracy & Scott Tracy, Scott Tracy & Virgil Tracy, Virgil Tracy & Alan Tracy
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo: Scott Edition [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1841482
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Out Patience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ak47stylegirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ak47stylegirl/gifts), [LouTheStarSpeaker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouTheStarSpeaker/gifts).



> For "Bad Things Happen Bingo: Scott Edition", the prompt 'the patient has left the building' featuring Alan (requested by ak47stylegirl) and Virgil (requested by louthestarspeaker)

Alan loved his big brothers, he really did, but there were times when he wished he wasn't the youngest – if only so they took him seriously.

Okay, so that wasn't strictly true. They _did_ take him seriously most of the time, mainly when they were on a mission and he'd had an idea, or spotted something just before everything went to hell, but take them out of the field and it was back to "go back to your lessons, Alan." Just because they meant well and cared about his schooling (more than he did at times; who cared about _grades_ when he already had his dream job?) didn't mean it wasn't utterly infuriating to go from valued member of the team to baby brother in the blink of an eye.

He hadn't been told to 'go back to your lessons' this time, but he _had_ been told 'everything is fine, Alan, don't worry', as though that was supposed to miraculously stop him from worrying. What his beloved yet dumb big brothers had not yet realised was that saying 'don't worry' had the totally opposite effect than they intended it to have. If there was no need to worry, there was no need to bring it up in the first place. So yes, he was worrying, but he figured that was a perfectly reasonable reaction to two of his big brothers ending up hospitalised after a spectacular mess of a rescue.

Gordon and Kayo were still at the danger zone with Thunderbirds One and Shadow, securing the site while John liaised with local authorities to make sure the incompetence that had caused the high rise building to collapse didn't happen again. It had been down to Alan to bundle an unconscious Virgil and semi-conscious Scott into Thunderbird Two and straight to the nearest hospital.

Scott had been the one to slur the reassurance his way, big brother instincts working overtime when it was clear the rest of his body just wanted to shut down and pretend the last few hours hadn't happened. Alan _might_ have found himself reassured if Virgil didn't have a lump the size of an egg on his head, or if Scott didn't seem totally and utterly punch drunk (yes, Alan knew what punch drunk looked like; no, he didn't plan on letting his brothers know that).

Alan had watched his big brothers being wheeled away by hospital orderlies – aside from Scott's failed attempt to reassure him, there had been no protest from his eldest brother and _that_ raised more alarm bells than anything else, because Scott was a terrible patient and never did what he was told by a medical profession. Especially when there was a younger brother in trouble, and not only did Virgil definitely qualify because he hadn't stirred once in the journey, but Scott's big brother smother mode would have counted his youngest brother being left alone in a hospital as 'in trouble', too.

So yes, Alan was worried. He was also furious, because by the time a nurse had said he could see his eldest brother – "he'll be fine, some broken ribs and a concussion but some rest and it'll all heal up without complications" – and he made it to Scott's room, the bed was empty.

Cue panic on behalf of the hospital staff, who were all beside themselves at the idea they'd managed to _lose_ a patient. Especially a patient as high profile as Mr Scott Tracy, Commander of International Rescue and CEO of Tracy Industries.

John was still busy heckling the local authorities, and while Alan knew he would put them on hold (and leave them to sweat) instantly if he said Scott had gone missing and they needed help tracking him down, he didn't make the call. Not yet.

"Hey!" He flagged down one of the scurrying orderlies, who took one look at his uniform and started babbling apologies and reassurances that they would find him and that he was so, so sorry this had happened. Alan waved them off impatiently, vaguely aware that he was mimicking Scott's own gestures when he was faced with a word vomit he didn't need. "Where's Virgil's room?"

"Mr Tracy – that is, Mr Virgil Tracy – is still under no-visitors," the orderly informed him, flustered and wringing his hands. "I'm afraid I can't give you that information."

Alan sighed.

"Just tell me," he insisted. He glanced at Scott's empty room and the poor man got even more flustered.

"I-I'm sure he hasn't also disappeared," he assured him frantically.

"It's a simple question." Alan crossed his arms and tapped the fingers of his left hand on his right bicep impatiently.

"Hospital policy dictates-"

Alan face-palmed, perfectly aware that _that_ was a Scott trait he'd picked up.

"You're missing the point," he said bluntly. "This isn't about hospital policy, it's about one of my brothers escaping from his room." Scott was a terrible patient anyway, but if there was one thing guaranteed to make him truly _impossible_ it was a little brother also hospitalised out of his sight. Alan was under no illusions where Scott had gone. "Look, just go to Virgil's room, okay? Please?"

"But-"

" _Please_." Alan would have preferred to go himself and drag his big brother's butt back into the bed it was supposed to be in, but it was all too obvious that despite being a member of International Rescue and wearing the uniform to prove it, he wasn't going to get to check the obvious place himself.

The orderly looked at him with suspicion, and Alan wondered if it would help or hinder his case if he turned on the tried and true puppy dog eyes. With an internal frown, he realised that switching from channelling Scott to pulling out the youngest brother techniques probably wouldn't work too well. He'd never seen Scott use the puppy dog eyes in his life, and even attempting to picture it just seemed _wrong_. Nope, he'd started this confrontation as International Rescue Operative In Charge (if only because he was the _only_ IR operative in the area currently capable of carrying that mantle), so he'd have to finish it the same way. Nodding at the orderly in question in what he hoped appropriately channelled Scott's _I'm in charge and I know you'll do what I said_ demeanour, he turned away and headed into the abandoned room.

"You're an idiot, Scott," he said to the empty bed and limply hanging drips he'd clearly torn out. "Couldn't you have at least waited for me before trying to see Virgil?" Predictably, the empty bed didn't have a response for him and with a huff he strode towards the window, knowing there was little to do now except wait for the nurses to find Scott trying to get in to see Virgil and drag him back here.

He hadn't noticed earlier, but the window looked out directly into the green where he'd landed Thunderbird Two in a bit of a hurry. Beneath the behemoth he could see patches of blackened grass and winced; he knew who'd be paying for the greenskeepers to fix that. Maybe he should have landed on the tarmac, but there hadn't been a clear space nearby – everyone liked to park as close as possible to the hospital entrance, and Thunderbird Two was so huge there hadn't been room for her amongst the cars scattered around. The number of cars at a hospital was always sobering, especially considering the general lack of cars used for transport nowadays. Alan was starting to wonder if everyone who _had_ a car also had someone prone to ending up in hospital.

They, of course, had planes. Big, fast planes called Thunderbirds that automatically got them priority treatment because if International Rescue were bringing people in, then clearly it was bad. Or a Tracy and therefore lots of money. Ethically, Alan didn't like the latter, but selfishly there was a part of him glad his family never had to wait for treatment.

His gaze drifted back to Thunderbird Two, looking almost forlorn with her pilot unconscious in hospital – and dammit, Scott, Alan was worried too! – and a shadow caught his attention. It was too far away to make out any details, but it looked an awful lot like someone was poking around the green Thunderbird.

Virgil would never forgive him if someone sabotaged – or even _stole_ – his precious 'bird on his watch. Bringing up the Thunderbird's remote access controls on his wrist communicator, he double-checked that she was completely secure. She was – despite everything going on around him, the instinct to make sure all Thunderbirds were locked down before leaving them had still kicked in. Still, Alan knew he couldn't leave someone to keep poking at one of their machines unchecked.

With a groan, and a frustrated look at Scott's empty bed and the equally-empty doorway – had they not found him yet? – Alan tore himself away from the window and stalked out of the room. None of the still hurrying orderlies – clearly no, Scott had _not_ been located yet, and there was a tiny part of Alan that worried about that – tried to engage him in conversation, or indeed do anything except get out of his way, and he strode all the way to the exit, muttering about stupid big brothers and lax security. The receptionist looked vaguely horrified and in the back of his mind he wondered if she thought he was blaming the hospital for losing track of Scott. Well, he kind of was, but mainly he was blaming Scott for _wandering off_ while he was still concussed and presumably doped up on painkillers.

The person was still poking around Thunderbird Two, specifically in the region of her access hatch, when Alan got eyes on the craft again, and his stride turned into a jog.

"Hey!" he shouted, belatedly realising that the person was a lot bigger than him, and that he didn't have any backup. Perhaps he should have got hold of some hospital security to give him a hand, but it was too late for that. Worst came to the worst, he could interrupt John's verbal ass-kicking of the local authorities to yell for help. John would be furious, but he'd at least leave the lecture until everyone was safe.

The person turned to face him and he skidded to a halt.

" _Seriously_?" Alan face-palmed again, before breaking into a sprint and covering the last few metres of ground in seconds. "What the hell are you doing out _here_?"

"Hey, Al," Scott grinned, blue eyes a little too bright and body swaying more than it should. He still looked punch drunk, but Alan was fairly certain that was the painkillers as much as the concussion now. "'s'll fine, jus' lu'ing fer Virrrrrg." His grin broadened, but Alan had known his biggest brother too long to translate the slurred sentence as anything other than "I can't find Virgil and I'm panicking but I can't panic in front of Alan."

Even concussed and high on painkillers, Scott was the mother of all smother hens. Alan rolled his eyes and sidled up next to him, looping under his shoulder and putting a gentle hand around his waist, recalling the nurse's words about broken ribs.

"Virgil's not here," he told him. "He's in the hospital, where you're supposed to be." He'd heard Scott's - and John's, and Virgil's, and even _Gordon'_ s – scolding voice enough times to mimic the general tone of fond yet exasperated disapproval. Scott didn't seem to notice he was being told off.

"Tunderbirrrrrd 'oo," he protested. "Virrrrrg."

"How did you even get out here in this state?" Alan wondered out loud. "Come on, Scott, let's go find Virgil." _Via your own bed for a few hours._ "I know where he is."

He didn't, but Scott didn't need to know that.

It took some coaxing and gentle prodding before Scott took a stumbling step forwards, away from Thunderbird Two and in the vague direction of the hospital. Alan knew his brother was tall, and muscular, and that combined those two things also meant _heavy_ , so when he was barely co-operating – and apparently unable to walk in a straight line – it was a challenge to manoeuvre him back towards the hospital.

Stairs would be out of the question, which meant they'd have to requisition a lift – or help. Alan should probably let the panicking staff know he'd found their escapee, but when he looked up at Scott, blue eyes still too bright and too-wide grin doing nothing to hide the panic going on inside his head, he couldn't bring himself to get anyone who wasn't family involved.

The wide-eyed receptionist watched them stumble in, eyes flickering up and down Scott's hospital-gowned figure and reminding Alan that they didn't cover everything his big brother might wish they _did_ , if he was less out of his head on concussion and painkillers, before reaching for the phone. Well, maybe help would be coming anyway, but Alan didn't bother to wait for it. An elevator helpfully emptied of people as he approached, and Scott all but collapsed into the metal box as Alan stepped in. It took him a moment to remember which floor Scott's assigned room was, during which some other people filed in, but he pulled Scott to lean against one wall, jabbed the corresponding button, and glared at anyone who looked at his brother too closely.

His vibrant blue and red uniform probably wasn't helping the stares – everyone knew International Rescue, and while Alan himself wasn't quite so much in the limelight thanks to certain overprotective brothers (otherwise known as _all of them_ ), Scott was a pretty famous face, more or less tied with Mr Olympic Gold Medal And Oh Did I Mention World Record Holder Gordon Tracy, and it didn't take much of a leap from Alan's own uniform for the starers to realise who his hospital escapee charge was.

Maybe he should have taken them up the stairs after all, he mused, until Scott swayed alarmingly – more so than he already _had_ been – and Alan realised that as invincible as Scott liked to appear, he would never have made it. Their floor came with a loud _ding_ and he chivvied his brother out of the elevator, mindful of the hospital gown and adding _not letting his brother moon anyone else_ to his list of things to worry about as they shuffled back to the open door of the abandoned room.

The room was no longer empty, instead teaming with nurses who took one look at Scott, whose entire weight felt like it was on Alan's shoulder at this point, and reached out for him. Unfortunately, that brought Scott's attention to the fact that none of the people were _Virgil_ , and he tried to make another bid for freedom. Feeling like he was dealing with a young child rather than a supposedly responsible adult and older brother, Alan refused to let him go and glared the nurses into clearing a path to the bed as he all but dragged a suddenly stubborn and digging his heels in Scott back to where he was supposed to be.

"Bu' Virrrrrg!" Scott complained loudly. Alan had to bodily hold him down – still mindful of the broken ribs – to stop him trying to get up again.

"You can see him soon," he informed him, trying to remember how Virgil sounded when he laid down the law back on the island. "But first, you are going to stay in this bed and let the nurses do their job, okay?" Scott hesitated, so clearly he'd got _somewhere_ with his Virgil impression.

"Nee' see Virrrg." But apparently it hadn't been perfect.

"You will," he stressed, gesturing for the nurses to work around him as they picked up discarded plastic tubes and prepared to once again hook Scott up to the stuff he needed to heal. Alan hoped they were going to use a sedative as well, because he knew there was no way he'd be able to keep Scott down much longer without either a sedative or restraints – and he suspected that literal restraints weren't generally hospital-approved procedure, for all that Virgil and Grandma had a set with Scott's name on at home.

"Buh-" Scott protested, and Alan took a chance, releasing one shoulder in favour of smoothing his brother's hair back from his face. It was a gesture Scott often did for him when he was the one stuck in bed, and he hoped it would reassure his brother as much as it always did him.

"I'm here, Scotty," he promised. "You can see Virgil soon."

He hoped, anyway. No-one had explicitly said as much, but it was _Virgil_. A knock to the head wouldn't keep him down for long, right?

Scott stopped struggling, big blue eyes blinking up at him. It reminded Alan of his earlier attempts to imagine Scott utilising the puppy dog eyes, and he'd been right – it did look wrong.

"Al?" he asked, quietly, and Alan smiled at him.

"I'm here," he repeated, stroking his brother's hair back again. "It's okay."

To his alarm, those big blue eyes welled with tears.

"M'faul'," Scott mumbled. "T's'ow. Di'n m'vve 'nt'me."

Alan hadn't been in the building when the last straining support had given way. Like Gordon, he'd been on triage as their bigger brothers tackled the task of getting everyone out. He didn't know what, exactly, had happened except they'd been hit by falling debris, but if there was one thing he definitely _did_ know, it was that there was no way either of them had done any less than they could possibly have done to protect each other.

"It's not your fault," he assured him with the confidence that came from knowing his brothers better than they knew themselves. "I know you did everything you could, Scotty, and Virgil knows that, too."

Scott let out a disbelieving whimper, and Alan hushed him, hating the sight of his eldest brother so vulnerable. It wasn't the first time he'd seen him injured – or even injured and still worrying about someone else – but that never made it any easier.

Around them, the hustle and bustle of the nurses died down. Alan didn't dare tear his eyes away from Scott, because he knew if he did he'd be right back to square one, but he assumed that meant they were done.

"Virrrrrg?"

"He's in good hands," Alan promised, perching on the side of the bed and slowly lifting his hand from where it was restraining Scott's shoulder. Scott didn't instantly try to get up, and Alan hoped that meant he was too tired for another escape attempt. It was no point hoping that it was an agreement not to hunt down Virgil, because Alan knew full well there was nothing on the planet, not even _Grandma,_ that could elicit that. "Let's focus on you for now, okay, Scotty? You've got a concussion and broken ribs and you know Virgil would be upset if you made yourself worse because of him."

He wasn't sure how much of what he was saying Scott was even hearing anymore. His too-bright eyes were taking on a glaze Alan knew from experience meant he was on the verge of sleep, and he risked a glance at the nurse still in the room.

 _Sedated?_ he mouthed and she nodded, holding her fingers together, close but not quite touching, in the universal sign for 'just a little'. Of course; with the concussion they couldn't risk him going too far under. Alan nodded his understanding and turned his attention back to his brother, who was still slurring Virgil's name even as his eyes slipped shut.

Alan stroked his hair again, even though his brother couldn't feel it, and felt far older than his fifteen years.

"Mr Tracy, I apologise again-"

He held up a hand to stem the flow of apologies.

"It's Alan," he corrected, not prepared for the weight of the title _Mr Tracy_ , especially not when Scott was going to be fine after some rest. "And it's fine; he's always like that. How's Virgil?"

"I'm not involved in his care but I can find out for you," she offered, and he rewarded her with a thankful smile. Correctly interpreting that as a cue to leave, she vanished out of the door, closing it behind her softly. Once again alone with his eldest brother, Alan sighed.

"You're a nightmare, Scott," he grumbled, but he could feel that he was still smiling, just a little. "But if you don't do it again, I promise I won't tell the others. Not even Gordon." Scott didn't react, not that Alan had expected him to, and he slid off of the bed to drag one of the visitor chairs over.

There was never anything fun about sitting by an injured brother, especially when they were asleep and didn't know you were there, but Alan didn't resort to any of his usual tactics – games stored in his wrist communicator, or even tv to stream. It wasn't often that he was the only conscious member of his family in a hospital, and the weight of responsibility for both of his brothers' welfare until Gordon and Kayo arrived or John stopped tearing into local authorities long enough to make his presence known virtually settled on his shoulders in a way he'd never really felt before.

Was this how Scott felt all the time, he wondered, looking at his brother's face. Most people went slack when they slept, but Scott was still frowning. Alan wished he could wipe that expression off of his face, but he didn't have the first idea _how_.

The door opened, rattling slowly on its rail, and he glanced over, expecting to see the nurse returning with news about Virgil.

It wasn't the nurse.

"No." The word slipped out from his mouth in an unbidden deadpan.

"Hey, Al," Virgil said in an exact mimicry of Scott's earlier greeting. Like Scott, he was unsteady on his feet, eyes a little too wide and bright. "Sco'?"

"Asleep, like you should be," Alan scolded even as he was leaving his chair to loop an arm around his second misbehaving brother of the day – and neither of them were Gordon! With Scott performing acts of escapism and proving why he had the reputation of being a terrible patient, he had totally forgotten that Scott was not the _only_ terrible patient in the family.

"Sco'kay?" Virgil asked, leaning heavily on Alan, who tried not to stumble at the sudden weight. Virgil might not be as tall as Scott, but he was definitely thicker set and therefore at least as heavy.

"Concussion and broken ribs," Alan told him, knowing that even concussed and loopy on painkillers, Virgil wasn't going to settle until he had an answer. "Come on, sit down before you fall down. I can't carry you." He dragged his brother over to Scott's bed, knowing that technically he should be dragging him back to his own bed but with no clue where his room was that wasn't exactly an option.

Virgil went willingly, until Alan tried to get him to sit in his vacated seat. Then, the family bear dug his claws in and lunged for the bed itself. With far too much speed and dexterity for his drugged up and concussed state, Virgil managed to get himself into the bed, avoiding all of the wires and tubes attached to their eldest brother.

"I guess that works," Alan sighed, watching as Scott unconsciously gave Virgil some room, before leaning against his younger brother. Virgil fell asleep almost instantly, and with a start Alan realised the frown on Scott's face had vanished. "What am I supposed to do with you two?" he grumbled, adjusting the sheet so that it covered both of them before flopping back into his chair.

Having both of his brothers in the same room eased some of the tension he hadn't noticed in his chest, especially as it meant they were both up to their usual tricks and were therefore definitely going to be fine.

Outside in the corridor there were sounds of more frantic footfalls, and he glanced over at the still-open door just in time to see the nurse from earlier appear, looking harried.

"I-" she started, before catching sight of the bed. Discomfort turned to exasperation, and she walked in, shaking her head.

"Sorry," Alan shrugged. "Once Thunderbird One gets here, we'll take them home and get them out of your hair."

"Are they always like this?" she asked, checking both of them over. There was a soft look on her face as she realised the pair of them were ever so slightly curled up around each other.

"Its less hassle if they're in the same room," he said wryly. "For everyone." In the distance, he heard a familiar engine. Gordon and Kayo were evidently done. "If you could get the doctor, we can start signing them out."

She looked startled for a moment, glancing back at the still sleeping pair. "But-"

"Think of it as a hospital transfer," Alan suggested, knowing full well that hospitals didn't typically discharge still-sleeping patients but also having heard all of his brothers make this case before. "We have our own facilities at base for care. Facilities more used to their escaping tendencies," he added with a wink and she laughed.

"I'll get the doctor," she agreed, although she didn't move immediately. Her gaze had been captured by something outside the window, and despite knowing what was there, Alan glanced out anyway to see Gordon tentatively landing Thunderbird One next to her big green sister. He couldn't see Thunderbird Shadow, but the sound of two different engines told him that Kayo's ship was in camouflage mode.

"The doctor?" he prompted after a moment, when she still hadn't moved. She flushed and backed out of the room, leaving him to level a fond glower at his sleeping brothers. "You're ridiculous," he told both of them.

Typically, there was no response. Brothers.

**Author's Note:**

> Tsari found Bad Things Happen Bingo and immediately got herself a card to use on Scott. To turn it into an actual game, I'm asking people to pick one of the prompts and a not-Scott Thunderbirds character to write him with and writing based on what I get! [You can see my card on my fanfiction tumblr](https://tsarisfanfiction.tumblr.com/badthingshappenbingo) alongside prompts I've already received if you want to join in the fun (contacting me via tumblr or comment is both fine)!
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> Tsari


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